It should have been so simple. I thought everything had gone to plan. John had come round right on time. No one knew he was coming to see me and there were no witnesses. He never suspected a thing – never saw the blow coming until it was too late.
I swung the spade round in a wide arc and felt it connect with his neck, making a sickening crunch. He flopped to the floor and squirmed around in silent agony, before I was able to land another couple of blows and put him out of his misery. All very well I hear you say – no problems there.
What I wasn’t expecting was his wife to walk in. There was a horrible moment as she stepped in through the door (which in my haste I hadn’t locked) and we both tried to assess the situation. It was like the calm before the storm – several seconds passed in slow motion as we both stared at each other in complete shock. And then the silence was broken by a single piercing scream of pure terror, as she realized the full horror of the situation. I made a very quick decision – she had to go.
Now, this was never part of the plan. Despite the fact that I killed my best friend I would not call myself a homicidal maniac or serial killer. It was a simple act of revenge – John had taken my girlfriend, moved into my house and seemed to be in the process of forcing me out of the business that we had built up together. So I had invited him out to a remote house in the country that I was decorating for a client; knowing that we would have absolute peace and quiet and no interruptions. But why had he brought his wife along?
My first blow dropped her to her knees, the second made the crying stop and the third cracked her skull open like an over ripe fruit. I dragged her body to where his lay (making sure to shut the door this time) and lay her to rest next to him. Their blood oozed across the floorboards and started to stain the wood which I had just sanded. A stupid oversight – I would have to clean it and re-sand it before I could varnish it now. I sat down, poured myself a large shot of whiskey and looked at the bodies.
What a shame she had to die too, especially as I knew that John had treated her as badly as he had treated me. I would have to move the bodies soon and bury them, but it was still too light outside and I needed the cover of darkness to finish my grisly work. As I sat there the initial excitement of the killings wore off and I began to feel an overwhelming tiredness creep up on me. I drained the last of my glass and slumped down into the chair. My eye-lids became so heavy that I had to close them for a few moments.
I don’t know how long I slept for, but I was suddenly woken by a loud hammering at the door which made me leap up out of the chair. For a moment I watched the handle turn as someone tried it to open the door from the other side. Cursing my stupidity, I remembered that I had shut the door but not locked it. As the door slowly opened I ran across the room and threw myself into the gap, hopefully blocking the view of whoever was outside.
In front of me stood two fresh faced young men, dressed in dark suits and white shirts. Both had perfectly cut and styled hair. The younger one, who could not have been more than nineteen, had what looked like his first moustache and the older one had a neatly trimmed beard. Both of them carried brief cases. My heart skipped a beat. Where these policemen or detectives? How could they have got here so quickly and how on earth could they know what I had done?
I looked at them blankly. My mouth was dry and my tongue felt like old leather in my mouth. The moment of panic passed as I quickly rationalized; they were too young to be policemen or detectives, but who were they, and more importantly what the hell were they doing here?
‘Sir’ said the older one, in what sounded like an American accent. ‘My name is Nathan and this here is Julian. Have you opened your life to Jesus?’
I could have laughed with joy. Instead I just stared back at them trying not to let the whirling madness and chaos inside of me show.
‘I’m sorry?’ I said.
‘Sir, we wondered if you had some time to talk about God?’ he persisted.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief and almost laughed.
‘I’m afraid not. As much as I’d love to stand here and discuss the pros and cons of religion and the finer points of the Bible, I really have to be getting on with my work.’
‘We understand’, said the younger man, speaking with great sincerity. ‘But if you could just spare a little time now, then you will reap the benefits in the afterlife.’
‘Look, I’ll be honest with you. I’m not a religious man and I really don’t have time for this. Anyway I don’t think God has a place for me in the afterlife.’
They both looked up at this and Nathan spoke.
‘Sir, God has a place for everyone. We are all his sheep and…Dear Lord! Is that an arm?’ he said pointing into the room.
My heart sank as I knew what had to be done.
‘Yes, there’s been a terrible accident. I’ve called the ambulance and I’m just waiting for it to arrive. You better come in.’
And then there were four. They had walking into the room cautiously, knowing that something wasn’t right, but honor bound to help if they could. Still, I consoled myself that if there was a God they were probably with him now. Although I had a feeling that my invitation to heaven was probably revoked – I was going straight to hell.
So now I had four bodies to deal with. By the time I got them bagged up and ready to go it was dark. I looked down at the floor, most of which was now stained red. First things first I thought to myself, dispose of the bodies now and clean the floor in the morning.
It took me half an hour to load up the car with the bodies. Outside it was a cold, dark evening with little moonlight. I drove for a while looking for a deserted wood or forest.
Finally I spotted a suitably remote location. I turned off my lights and drove across a field to get to a patch of dense looking woodland. It wasn’t long before I found a suitable spot, got out and began to dig a hole by torch light. It was hard work and I soon broke into a sweat despite the cold fog that had begun to settle in. It took me over an hour to dig a hole that was large and deep to conceal all the bodies adequately. With one great last effort I dragged the bodies into the hole, one by one and sat back in the car and poured myself a small whisky, to regain my strength before I filled it in.
A faint sound caught my ear and I turned round to see a small Scotty dog sat next to the car – his little face looking up at me inquisitively. Then, seeming to catch some new scent he ambled over to the hole. I stepped out of the car and looked around, but there was no one to be seen. The fog was quite dense now and visibility was poor. I carefully picked up the spade and held it tightly in my hands. It was then I heard the call.
‘Louie, Louie, where are you? Come to Mummy. There’s a good boy.’
I went to shout back for her not come, but it was too late – the screaming began. I ran over to the hole where a woman in her fifties was now screaming hysterically, on her knees looking down at the bodies. She never even saw me coming, never even had time to register the first, fatal blow.
By the time I had finished burying all five of them I was exhausted. Tears streamed down my face as I wept for the waste of life that I had caused. I had only meant to kill one person – one useless, stinking human being that the world was better off without. How had I ended up with this massacre?
The small dog looked at me mournfully, with big accusing eyes. I picked him up and put him in the passenger seat of the car, got in the other side and gunned the engine. We drove for a few miles in silence, while I decided what to do with him. Eventually I stopped the car and looked down at him. I opened the passenger door, lifted him out and put him down. All around us was countryside. He would be fine. I got back in the car and drove away, taking one last look in the rear view mirror as I went. He was still there, his head cocked to one side, looking at me as I disappeared.
That should have been the end of this sorry tale, but fate had one more cruel twist before it was over. As I pulled up to the house I noticed that there was a light on in the front room. I was pretty sure that I hadn’t left it on when I left, but I couldn’t be certain. I took out my spade and walked up to the door. I turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open.
I stepped into the front room and paused. A noise came from the kitchen, a splash of water from the tap, followed by footsteps and a shadow that preceded the person. And there she was – a vision of loveliness; the woman who had torn out my heart – my ex-girlfriend Michelle.
‘Jesus, you scared me,’ she said in astonishment. ‘What the hell happened to you? You look like you’ve been in a fight. And what on earth has been going on in here, this floor is covered with red – it looks like an abattoir? And where is John, he said he was coming down here to see you?’
I just stood there and waited as the awful realization struck her. She looked at the floor, then back at me.
‘My God is that blood on you?’ she said. ‘Tell me it isn’t true; tell me you haven’t killed him?’
I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t even look her in the eye. She began to edge towards the back door. I made no move to stop her.
‘I’m going,’ she said, her voice shaking with fear. ‘No need to do anything hasty. I just came here to tell you that John has gone back to his wife. Now I’m just going to walk out the door..’
Her words sent my head spinning. John had gone back to his wife! Maybe Michelle had come here to try and get back together with me? Maybe we could get back together and forget what I had done and what she had seen? I looked at her as she moved towards the door. She looked back at me, her eyes full of dread and revulsion, and I knew what I had to do. There was no going back – there was no way I could let her go now.
‘I love you Michelle, but if I don’t kill you I’m going to prison for a long, long time. It’s nothing personal; it’s just something that I’ve got to do.’
Her face spasmed with fear and tears of shock spilled from her eyes, as I advanced towards her.
‘No, no, no,’ she begged. ‘You could let me go. I won’t tell anyone. Please, I’ll get out of the country; you’ll never see me again.’
‘I honestly believe you when you say that, but when you get home, when your safe and I’m far away, you will call the Police and tell them everything,’ I said.
‘I don’t have to. I’d rather live with the secret than die with it.’
‘We both know that’s not an option. Put yourself in my shoes. I’d love to let you go. Hell, I really don’t want to have to kill anybody else today. But there is just no way round it. If our situations were reversed I’d promise anything rather than be killed. But we both know that when I got home, the only sensible, logical, sane thing to do would be to call the Police?’
‘I’ll do anything, anything you say,’ she whimpered. ‘I just don’t want to die.’
‘Please believe me when I say that this is the hardest thing that I have ever had to do, and you would not believe the day I have had.’
With that I swung the spade round over my head, and closed my eyes. I felt it connect with a jarring smack, as it caught her in the side of the head and she dropped to the floor like a dead weight. It took four more blows to finish her off; each one was like a blow to myself. When I opened my eyes again she lay in the middle of the floor, blood splattered and broken.
Some time passed. I screamed, cried, and howled at the injustice of it all. Beat my fists on the floor and hugged Michelle’s still warm body. Finally, sometime in the early hours of the morning I came to my senses and started to tackle the mess I had made.
First I cleaned and bagged up Michelle’s body and put it in the boot of the car. I then used some of Michelle’s blood to cover the remaining floorboards so that the whole floor was stained red. Then I slept. In the morning, when the blood had dried I frantically sanded the floorboards down again and gave them a couple of coats of varnish. The final result was stunning – the colour had softened and the whole floor now had a beautiful, warm, earthy redness.
It was evening again when I finally left as I knew the owners would be back the next day and I still had to bury Michelle’s body and get home. I don’t remember too much about the journey home to be honest. I drove through the pouring rain, weary and red eyed through country lanes and past rolling fields.
At some point I stopped and buried Michelle in a small wood, down a dark, unlit lane – I don’t even remember where. Finally I got home, showered for as long as I could bear it and slumped into bed raw with regret and remorse.
A ringing, buzzing noise awoke me from a deep sleep. It was light now. I saw the clock and it was past midday. Instinctively I reached for my mobile and pressed answer.
‘Yeah?’ I mumbled into the handset.
‘You, okay?’ said the voice on the other end.
‘Yes,’ I replied hesitantly.
‘It’s Damien. From the house you have been working on.’
My heart stopped.
‘You don’t sound so good. Everything okay?’ he continued.
Did he know?
‘Fine, just a bit tired after the last job.’
‘That’s why I’m calling. We just wanted to say what a fantastic job you did on our house. We love it.’
I let out a long, slow breath.
‘What’s that honey? said the voice on the phone.
In the background I heard a woman voice, but I couldn’t make out the words. After a long pause Damien laughed and came back on the line.
‘It’s my wife,’ he said. ‘She loves what you’ve done with the floor. She says it’s to die for.’
I had to laugh.
–
Credits to: primorialdwarf
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